Snow Business
by BenAddiction
Summary: Just a little bit of fun in the snow. Pre-slash SH/JW, if you don't like, don't read. First attempt at pre-slash (please be kind). Rated T to be cautious. Final chapter is here. Please be kind and thank you for reading.
1. Chapter 1

Snow Business

'Sherlock, wait!, we don't all have incredibly long legs you know?' yelled John as he carefully made his way along the snow covered London streets.

'Come on, John, Lestrade is waiting at the Yard' replied Sherlock as he turned a corner up ahead of them, seemingly unconcerned about the weather.

When John finally made it to the corner there was no sign of his flatmate, so he stood and looked around trying to get his bearings. Suddenly as John turned back to look in the direction of where he had just walked, from out of nowhere a snowball made contact with his back just between his shoulder blades.

John spun around immediately and saw his flatmate standing a little way from him with his hands clasped behind his back and a suspiciously innocent look on his face.

'Sherlock, did you throw that?' asked John.

'Throw what?' asked Sherlock, at which point he brought one of his hands from behind his back and proceeded to throw the snowball it contained with deadly accuracy at John, he then spun on his heels and ran off laughing gleefully.

John spluttered at the face full of snow and grinned. 'So you want to play do you? I'll get you for that Sherlock.' John bent down and collected a portion of snow and began moulding it into a snowball, and ran after his flatmate.

As John approached Sherlock, he threw the snow he had held in his hands, and caught Sherlock on the back of his head, the snow covering his dark curls. John laughed at the expression on Sherlock's face as some of the snow melted and ran down inside the collar of his coat.

More snowballs were thrown between them, many reaching their target, until finally there seemed to be more snow on the two men than was on the ground, so they gave up and decided to call it a draw.

'You're covered in snow, Sherlock, let me brush you down' said John reaching his hand up to Sherlock's back and brushing the snow from his long black coat.

'Thank you, so are you, you've got snow in your hair', Sherlock said as he put up his hand to John's head to brush away the snow. At that point Sherlock froze, as he looked into John's eyes. His pupils were dilated and his breathing was becoming more erratic. Sherlock stared at him as his brain began to run at a million miles a second.

'What's happening? What does this mean?' thought Sherlock as his own breathing began to falter.

Before he could continue that thought, the sound of childish laughter broke the spell that surrounded John and Sherlock, and eye contact was broken as John looked around to see three young boys come around the corner laughing and throwing their own snowballs at each other. Sherlock cleared his throat and lowered his arm back to his side, as he turned and started walking away.

'Sherlock?' called John.

'Come along John, Lestrade will be waiting.' replied Sherlock as he strode away.

John stood for a moment, looking at his friend as he marched off down the street, a indefinable look on his face. Finally he pulled himself together, shook his head sadly and jogged after him.

**A/N: This is my first attempt at pre-slash (please be kind), I'm thinking of extending this where they arrive at Scotland Yard and the tension between them is obvious to all, please let me know what you think.**


	2. Chapter 2

Hi, Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the first chapter and all of you who are following this little story. You have made my week. Though I have really felt the pressure to make this chapter as good as, if not better than the first. I'm not sure I have managed that but please be kind if you review this. I am currently working on a final chapter where the boys are back at the flat, and they have a little talk, will anything be resolved between them? (probably not ... ).

Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the characters :(

Chapter Two.

Sherlock and John were almost at the Yard. Neither had spoken for several minutes, though Sherlock had slowed to allow for John's shorter stride length.

The snow was falling heavier now, and and both men were resembling snowmen as they trudged on, with daylight fading rapidly to dusk. As they were making their way across the road to the entrance to New Scotland Yard, John tripped as he was stepping onto the pavement because owing to the amount of snow that had fallen, it was difficult to see where the road ended and the pavement began.

'Ow! Jesus!' yelled John, causing Sherlock to turn back to look at him as he lay sprawled on the snow.

Sherlock walked back to where John lay. 'Are you alright' he asked as he extended his right hand to help John to his feet.

'Yeah, I'm ... oh, that's not good' moaned John.

'What's the problem'

'Nothing, I'm fine, I've just bashed my left knee up a bit, I'll be okay'

Sherlock leant down further, grabbed John's arm and helped to lever him up into an upright position, all the while studiously avoiding eye contact with his flatmate. This was perhaps made a little easier owing to the fact that there was an odd sensation in his right hand where it came into contact with John's arm which captured his gaze and held it quite securely. John was also working hard to avoid looking at Sherlock while he was getting to his feet, and appeared to be considerably more interested in maintaining his balance. He therefore didn't notice where Sherlock was looking, until he had been standing for several seconds and Sherlock had yet to remove his hand from John's arm.

'Sherlock? Is something wrong, I'm on my feet now, you can let go.' said John with a slightly worried look on his face, as Sherlock seemed frozen in place.

'No ... nothing ... sorry' came Sherlock's mumble in reply. He dropped John's arm so fast it appeared to have burnt him, then he turned and walked through the entrance to Scotland Yard and up to the front desk to announce his arrival.

John limped after him a moment later, just as Greg Lestrade arrived to take them up to his office.

'Hi, John, Sherlock' said DI Lestrade as he walked through the door to the front office, looking up at them as he did so. 'God, John, what the hell happened to you? You're covered in snow, come here' he cried as he began to brush the snow from John's back and arms.

'I'm fine Greg, really. I tripped on the kerb, bashed my knee.' Replied John. 'It's all fine.' He grinned at Greg in thanks for his help.

Sherlock's brow furrowed and he turned away in confusion when he noticed John's smile directed at Lestrade. He opened and closed his mouth several times as he tried to think of a way of putting his thoughts into words (not something he normally had a problem with) and ended up resembling a goldfish.

'Come on through' said the DI, turning to open the door into the rest of the police station. On doing so, he caught sight of Sherlock's face. 'Are you okay, you look a little ... odd?' he asked.

'I'm fine!' growled Sherlock as he stalked off.

'John?' Greg asked with a quizzical look in his eyes.

'It's nothing, everything's fine, Greg, just leave it, yeah? Replied John

'Well clearly everything is not fine, when are you two going to sort it all out? It's becoming a little tedious, don't you think?

'I have no idea what you're talking about' mumbled John as he avoided eye contact with the Inspector.

'LESTRADE' boomed Sherlock from the other end of the corridor, 'I thought there was a reason I was summoned?'

'Yes, okay Sherlock, don't get your knickers in a twist. I needed some more information regarding that last case you solved for us. You know, the one with the redhead and the two pound coin.' said Lestrade as he made his way down the corridor towards Sherlock. John followed close behind.

'Ugh ... dull. I've already explained all of that, what is it like to be so stupid!'

'Sherlock!' said John, a note of warning in his voice. 'Play nice.'

Eventually the case had been explained to everyone's satisfaction (though with plenty of rude comments from Sherlock), and John and Sherlock left to go back to the flat. They luckily managed to grab a taxi at the rank as the snow had finally stopped falling and the grit lorries had done their rounds so the roads were relatively clear.

As they were looking out of the window at the retreating backs of John and Sherlock, Lestrade turned to Donovan.

'So what odds will you give me?'

'Sir?' queried Sally.

'On those two finally getting together, either that or they will end up killing each other through sheer frustration' replied Greg, as the taxi carrying the two flatmates pulled into the London traffic.

'I know which one I'd rather see happen' said Sally with a slight shudder at the thought of Sherlock actually caring for anyone.

'Yeah me too' stated Greg with a small smile on his face as he thought of how good it would be for Sherlock to finally show John how much he really thought of him and how much he had changed since John came onto his life.

A/N: Apologies if this doesn't live up to the first chapter.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Hi, this is the final chapter to this little story. I am overwhelmed by the lovely reviews and comments I have received for this (I hope this chapter lives up to all of the hype!) This was my first attempt at writing pre-slash and whilst I found it difficult at times (chapter 2 was a killer to write) I also found it very enjoyable too. I will definitely be doing more stories in the future :

Disclaimer: As always I don't own the characters :(

Chapter Three

The taxi pulled up outside 221 Baker Street and let out it's two passengers. John stopped to pay the driver the required amount and added a small tip owing to the difficult driving conditions present on the roads.

Meanwhile, Sherlock unlocked the front door and went in to walk up the stairs to the flat they rented from Mrs. Hudson. John followed, his limp still in evidence from the stumble in the snow earlier that day.

By the time John had made it to the top of the stairs, Sherlock was firmly ensconced on the sofa with his back to the room.

'Sherlock?, Sherlock!, what is wrong, and don't say nothing because I don't have to be the world's only consulting detective to know when there's a problem.'

There was no reply, merely an indistinguishable grunt.

'Fine, that's fine. You know what, if you can't be bothered having a reasonable conversation with me, I'm going to bed. Goodnight!' John marched towards the stairs leading to his bedroom.

'You smiled at Lestrade' Sherlock told the sofa cushion.

'Pardon?' John turned slowly back to face Sherlock, who turned his head to look at John from his position on the sofa.

'I said, you smiled at Lestrade.'

'I'm not sure I understand? I smile at a lot of people Sherlock.' John now had a very confused expression on his face.

Sherlock ducked his head and mumbled.

'I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that, can you say it again. John said still unsure as to where this was going.

Sherlock suddenly rose from the sofa and stepping over the coffee table tried to make his way to his own bedroom just along the corridor, speaking as he did so 'it doesn't matter, not important'.

John threw out his arm as Sherlock went to walk past and caught his upper arm in a fierce grip.

'Wait, please!, Sherlock, please ... talk to me!'

'I ... I ... ' stammered Sherlock.

'Please?' John started leading Sherlock back to the sofa, and Sherlock allowed himself to be led (this said more for his state of mind than words ever could).

'Sherlock ... you're worrying me now,'

'I'm sorry John' Sherlock mumbled, with his head down, almost to his chest.

'Look at me Sher' said John, softly. 'Please.'

As Sherlock looked up it was plain to see the tears in his eyes glistening. John began moving his hand up and down Sherlock's arm in a slow and hopefully soothing manner, trying to offer what comfort he could. It was almost like trying to calm a wounded animal as Sherlock's eyes flittered down to look at John's hand on his arm, and then looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with John as his breathing became more erratic.

Eventually after several minutes of sitting in silence, Sherlock's breathing began to calm down. As he continued to soothe Sherlock, John softly asked ' do you want to tell me how you've gotten into this state now?'

'As ever John, you see, but you do not observe' replied Sherlock, though his words lacked their usual bite.

John smiled a little and when Sherlock glanced his way and noticed, the smile was returned.

'Hm ... okay ... ' Sherlock turned his head slightly so that he wasn't looking directly at John, instead his gaze fell to somewhere over John's left shoulder. 'It would appear, that ... I ... erm ... have developedfeelingsforyou.'

In the end the words all started to run into each other and it was very difficult to distinguish each individual word and make sense of what Sherlock had actually said.

'Okay, you're going to need to repeat that last bit as I didn't follow a word of it, sorry.' said John with a very confused expression on his face.

Sherlock growled. 'Fine! I. Fancy. You. Is that clear enough for you!'

Upon hearing this, John's face turned a pretty crimson and he felt incredibly warm, as he sat trying to grasp precisely what Sherlock had just said.

'It's fine, okay. I know "You're not gay" just forget it.' Sherlock rose from the sofa (John's hand no longer preventing him from moving) and made his way to his bedroom.

It was only the sound of Sherlock's bedroom door closing that brought John out of his stupor. He looked around trying to figure out where Sherlock had gone, and eventually realised that the noise he'd heard had been the bedroom door. Making his way over to the door he knocked lightly on it. 'Sherlock, open the door please?' there was silence, 'please Sherlock I want to show you something.'

John waited until, after several minutes had passed, the door opened and Sherlock stepped into view. 'Well?' asked Sherlock. John didn't speak, he just took hold of his arm again and led him back to the sofa, where they both sat down. He then took Sherlock's right hand and put two of his fingers onto the pulse point on the wrist of his own right hand. Then he raised his left hand to Sherlock's face and laid it against his cheek. Sherlock's eyebrows raised at this but he didn't say anything. John then leaned in very slowly and kissed Sherlock very lightly on the lips whilst caressing his face with his hand. As he pulled away, he looked into Sherlock's eyes and smiled. Once Sherlock had remembered to breathe, he returned the smile and leant down to rest his forehead against John's.

They stayed that way for a while, John caressing Sherlock's face and Sherlock caressing the inside of John's wrist.

Eventually John pulled away, raised himself up to press a small kiss to Sherlock's forehead and stood up.

As he made his way to the kitchen he turned back and asked 'do you want a cup of tea Sher?'

The End.

A/N: Please review and please be kind.


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